The Darkness Follows Me
by Weirdo.O
Summary: Another attempt on Harry's life leaves him even angrier and more bitter than before. He reaches out, looking for someone to hate him like he hates himself, and things don't go just as he planned. (possible HPSS)


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The words of Harry's friends seemed only to make Vernon more determined to make Harry's life absolute hell. He'd only been home for about a week and he already felt like another day would surely kill him. He kept sending letters to the Order even though "forgetting" and being rescued sounded endlessly appealing. Then again, that would force him to spend the rest of the summer at Grimmauld Place and he wasn't quite sure he was up for that just yet.

With Sirius' death still so fresh in his mind, he thought spending too much time in his family's house might drive him over the not-far-off edge. As it was, his existence was becoming a burden. He was tired of spending so much time being himself, and didn't quite understand how this didn't happen to others. Every moment of everyday was spent with himself, and he was sick to death of his own presence. He knew that couldn't be healthy.

He suddenly felt very angry. These bursts of sudden rage followed him everywhere and he found himself even provoking Vernon's already livid attitude toward him. There had even been a few argument ending in actual physical violence. He knew that if he told the Order that Vernon had hit him, they would come get him right away, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. An insignificant bruise on his cheek seemed petty in the grand scheme of things, and complaining about something so petty just to escape the Dursleys at the risk of his own and countless other lives seemed entirely selfish. He didn't want them to think he was afraid of such a ridiculous muggle, either. That would surely set the world at ease, their supposed savior fleeing his overweight uncle.

Tired of being in "his" bedroom, he decided that a small escape was in order. He walked as silently down the stares as possible and headed for the front door. No such luck.

"Where do you bloody well think YOU'RE going?" Harry hadn't quite managed to go unnoticed due to the fact that Vernon was sitting in the parlor with a full view of the front door.

"I have to get out a little while, I'm going nutters."

"YOU _ARE_ NUTTERS! Now get the hell back to your room, we don't want the neighbors to see you anymore than absolutely necessary."

Harry felt the rage bubble inside of him again. He knew that these provocations shouldn't wind him up so much after all those years, but he couldn't suppress his anger. "I'm not staying in here with you lot all summer. I'll kill myself first."

"Go right on ahead. It'll sure a hell make my life easier. Who would miss you?"

"Bugger off, I'm leaving" He stepped the last few paces to the door, and flung the door open. As he was stepping out, he heard a growl reminiscent of his Aunt's dog and was pulled back into the house by the collar of his shirt.

"Listen here, you freak, I will not be disrespected like that under my own roof. Get your bloody arse right back upstairs NOW, before I personally make sure you stay there for the next month."

"Best not injure my right hand, _Uncle, _I have a letter due tomorrow, after all."

"You're kidding yourself, boy. If they really cared about you that much why do they dump you here every summer? Face it, you're a nuisance to everyone around you."

"Fuck you, you don't know a thing about it." Vernon's face purpled and Harry ducked just in time as his fist whizzed by where his head had been the very moment before. Missing it's target, Vernon's fist collided with the door and a thoroughly unpleasant cracking noise was heard. The large man howled in pain and anger, and Harry took the man's disorientation from the injury as an opportunity to bolt. He sprinted down the stoop and cut across the perfectly manicured lawn, running as fast as his legs would carry him to any place that wasn't Number 4, Privet Drive. He found himself at the very same park he had frequented the summer before, and he hopped the fence, as it was currently close because it was passed dusk. Whoever was in charge of such issues had decided that the park was being used much too often by delinquents in the middle of the night and had given it an early curfew. Harry plopped himself in the same swing he had left to follow Dudley the night the dementers had attacked and groped inside his pocket. He pulled out a small crinkled cardboard box, and extracted a slightly bent fag. He knew it was nothing short of dumb to smoke, and that it really served no purpose, but it really did relax him and at least give him something to do.

Besides, he doubted wizards died of cancer. There was probably some easy-fix potion to heal the lungs right up again with a swig.

He felt the anxiety and lingering rage escape his body with his expulsion of smoke and kicked the ground, sending the swing backwards. Something about enjoying such a juvenile practice mellowed him out. It let him escape into himself and pretend to be a kid again. Or for the first time, depending on how you look at it.

Eventually, darkness completely consumed the park and Harry began to feel suddenly uneasy. He had an uncomfortable feeling that something wasn't right and he could have sworn that he felt sparks of magic in the air, snapping like static all around him.

He dug his heels into the woodchips at his feet, leaving deep tracks and stopping his swinging abruptly. He hopped back over the fence, fitting his feel into the holes in the fence and jumping over the top. The asphalt on the other side glittered from the street lamps' slanted beams illuminating the street in front of him.

He walked slowly, in no great hurry to get back to the house and kicked at loose gravel and litter on the road. His anger had dissipated as his fag had grown smaller, and he now felt completely apathetic… like nothing would ever matter again.

Harry more felt than heard someone approach him from behind and groped stealthily in his pocket again, pushing passed the cigs and gripping his wand. He subtlety looked into the reflection in the windows to his right out of the corner of his eye.

"Harry! Wait up!"

Harry started. There was no mistaking the enormous girth of the boy, or the strangely high pitched voice. He _jogged _up to Harry's side displaying the closest thing Harry had even seen Dudley do to exercise.

"Wotcher, Harry! You're out late. Where've you been?"

Harry stared at Dudley, sure the gargantuan boy must have gone mad. He was being _friendly_, and it was creeping Harry out. "Are you ill?!"

"Dunno what you mean," Dudley smiled at him, but it was obviously very strained.

That's when Harry felt it again, and this time he was sure. He could practical hear the magic hissing around his cousin. All of the possibilities flashed through Harry's mind. Dudley may be under Imperious, or some mind control potion… or maybe it wasn't Dudley at all. A polyjuice potion or glamour could be hiding a Death Eater..

He decided he needed to know which it was before deciding what to do about it, so he tested the boy. If he _was _Dudley, then he would still have all of the memories from before.

Harry thought of the perfect opportunity. He knew for a fact that Dudley had spent Thursday night at home watching his newest favorite television program

"So, Big D, how was that big party on Thursday? Didn't you go with Candice?" He pulled the name out of nowhere. Candice wasn't a popular name and it was quite unlikely that Dudley had a friend with it. Even if he did, he never talked of her at home and surely wasn't dating one. The thought of Dudley dating ANYONE made Harry mentally cringe.

Dudley blinked for a second, uncertain. "You know… the usual."

That was plenty proof enough for Harry. Whoever was walking beside him was not the same person who had been sitting and stuffing his face on the couch a few days before.

Truthfully, the mere fact that Dudley hadn't been too terrified to walk within twenty feet of him probably would've been evidence enough, but he preferred to be thorough.

Harry turned down the next alley, assuming that whoever was wearing Dudley's face would follow, not knowing that this alley would not take them back to Number four.

A few steps into the alley, Harry pushed off of the wall at his right, throwing his whole weight into Dudley, and elbowing the blonde head, making it smack against the bricks of the wall on their left.

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To be completely honest, I don't know whether I'm good or I suck, so your reviews or lack there of will determine if I continue. I can always write to myself. Writing to others is completely up to the audience. Hope you liked. ( . ) Also, I wil be perkier in the future... if there is one. Bad Day. 


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